


Anemone

by felinedetached



Series: Hanahaki [2]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hanahaki Disease, Body Horror, F/F, Sombra is so fun to write honestly sufjhdkfj, THIS IS KINDA ANGST BUT ALSO NOT IT HAS A HAPPY ENDING, bc hanahaki
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-05
Packaged: 2018-12-24 05:49:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12006363
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/felinedetached/pseuds/felinedetached
Summary: The flowers get worse. You’re actually not sure how they’re growing with the lack of oxygen in your body. In fact, you haven’t really thought about it. You haven’t thought about who they are for, either. What’s the point? It’s not like you’d ever love them anyway.You ignore the fact that the flowers falling from your lips mean that you already do.





	Anemone

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CassieTheGeek](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CassieTheGeek/gifts).



> Happy birthday Cassie!!!!! I hope you enjoy this insane thing that I started eight hours before your birthday and finished... over twelve hours later!!!
> 
> ily

You never pay much attention to the flowers coughed up between missions. They are annoying, sure. A hindrance. A sign of unrequited love. Talon could likely rid you of them, remove them with the surgery and reprogram you to never fall in love again. That wouldn’t be a bad fate - you hadn’t thought you were capable of it anyway.

 

Love is useless in your line of work. When would you need love? As you stand in the biting cold, waiting for the perfect shot? You’re a sniper, a _tool_ , and love is not required to do your function.

 

And yet you love someone anyway. That thought shouldn’t bother you - you shouldn’t let it. Focus on your function, ignore anything irrelevant. Love, and the flowers forcing their way from your throat, are irrelevant.

 

As a result, you ignore it.

 

The flowers get worse. You’re actually not sure how they’re growing with the lack of oxygen in your body. In fact, you haven’t really thought about it. You haven’t thought about who they are for, either. What’s the point? It’s not like you’d ever love them anyway.

 

You ignore the fact that the flowers falling from your lips mean that you already do.

 

* * *

 

The mission wasn’t supposed to be hard. In the end, it really wasn’t. You got your shot off and hit your target. He went down - mission complete. The girl - agent - tackling you to the ground afterward, crying as she begged you to tell her why, that was the unexpected bit.

 

She was familiar. Not from a file, although you knew her from those as well - she was familiar in a way that made you call her chérie. The term of endearment fell from your lips easier than you’d ever thought, and as you throw her off the roof - off you, there is a tinge of regret.

 

When you get back to your quarters, you finally give in to the hacking coughs that had been threatening to wrack your body the whole ride back to base. The petals flood out, blood splattering onto your hand. The redness would be shocking against the blue of your skin and the blue of the petals, but few kills you’ve done close up have already made you used to the contrast.

 

You wipe your hands of the blood and throw the petals into the trash.

 

Whole flowers have yet to appear.

 

* * *

 

Curiosity drives you to research. You go to Sombra first - for some reason, you don’t want anyone to know you have flowers in your lungs and are coughing up their petals. She doesn’t ask questions, but you know she’ll hold this knowledge against you.

 

The flowers you have budding in your lungs are anemone. They indicate fading hope, being forsaken and anticipation. There’s pity in her eyes, but you ignore it, pinning her down and making her swear not to tell. She does, without hesitation.

 

“Mine are snapdragons,” she adds, “they mean deception, presumption, graciousness, and strength.” For a second, you are frozen. Then you step off her, hesitating before offering a hand. She takes it, pulling herself up. You turn to leave, but her voice stops you.

 

“Do you know who it is?” she asks. Wordlessly, you shake your head.

 

It is a lie.

 

You think you know, but you can’t be sure.

 

“Lena Oxton,” you say, voice quiet. “I think it may be her.”

 

“Satya Vaswani,” Sombra tells you, “she’s mine.”

 

“Why are you telling me this?” you ask, confused for the first time in a long time. Sombra laughs, breathless.

 

“Because you have a chance.”

 

* * *

 

Your name is Amélie Lacroix. You are thirty-three years old. Talon kidnapped and brainwashed you, forcing you to kill Gérard Lacroix, your husband.

 

Lena Oxton had found his dead body.

 

Before you were with Talon, Sombra told you, she was your friend. It is likely that she was more than that.

 

It is likely that you still love her.

 

It is unlikely that she loves you back.

 

Another petal falls into your palm, and you pull the numbness around you like a blanket. Nothing hurt you before you knew all this, when their brainwashing was working perfectly and you didn’t care about the petals that fell from your lips from time to time.

 

Now you care.

 

It hurts so much more than you’d expected.

 

* * *

 

Reaper drops a file onto the table in front of you. Forcing yourself not to flinch, you look up at him.

 

“Your next target. Mission starts at 1600 hours.” Staring blankly at his retreating back does nothing to help with your - impaired? - cognitive functions, so you look down at the beige file.

 

_Your next target._

 

Aware of the slightly heightened rate of your heartbeat and breathing rate, you inhale slowly through your nose, blowing the air out through your mouth as you flip open the file.

 

**LENA OXTON**

 

Sombra plops down across from you, as has become usual since when she revealed her own flower a few weeks prior. She looks at the file on the table, easily reading the bolded letters heading the page, despite having to do so upside down.

 

“Well then,” she says, her fingers drumming on the table. “Here’s your chance. Will you tell her, or shoot her?”

 

“Either way, the likely outcome is my own death,” you reply. If you tell her, admit to the flowers falling from your lips, and refuse to kill your target, Talon will retrieve you, and they will kill you.

 

If you shoot her, well. There are no recorded outcomes of what happens when one afflicted with Hanahaki kills the one they love. In all likelihood, it would ensure that your feelings remain unrequited - for how could a corpse love back? - and you would die of the disease, flowers filling your lungs and constricting your airways.

 

“I say tell her. Overwatch is a very useful organization, and they may be able to protect you from Talon,” Sombra says, her voice carefree. She’s inspecting her nails. You sigh.

 

“They could not protect Gérard,” you respond.

 

“True! But if they get you, they’ve got an informant. Besides, I heard Satya joined Overwatch too. If their plans suit mine, I may consider joining you in a liiiiiiittle rebellion.” When she smiles, she shows teeth.

 

“I shall tell her then,” you decide, allowing the tiniest hint of a smirk to grace your lips. Sombra all but cheers, throwing her arms into the air.

 

“You go, amiga.”

 

* * *

 

“ _Intel says she’ll be here in twenty minutes, amiga. Just wait.”_ Sombra’s voice crackles through the com. Normally, for missions like this, you’d be up on the rooftops, watching through your headset for your target. The only thing similar about this is Sombra’s voice coming from the device in your ear.

 

This time, you’re sitting at a table at the cafe she frequents. When she arrives, you’ll be waiting, but this time, you have no intention of shooting your target. This time, you’ll ask her to sit with you - that is, if she doesn’t start shooting at you first.

 

This time, when Lena Oxton sees you through the glass, you wave. Her confusion is obvious - written all over her face. She should learn to hide those emotions. Tracer - Lena - hesitates before entering the cafe, as you would have expected. She quickly scans the room before making her way over to your table.

 

“What’re you doin’ here?” she asks, a hint of what could almost be called aggression in her voice.

 

“Looking for you, chérie,” you reply, deciding to ignore it. Her defenses seem to go up again - she glances around the cafe for the second time. Sombra’s laughter echoes in your ears.

 

“ _Chérie?”_ she says, _“Really?”_ You ignore her. You’re ignoring a lot of things right now.

 

“What do ya want, then?” Lena asks. You note that she hasn’t yet sat down - obviously still defensive, unsure what you’re planning. This isn’t the ideal situation to tell her, but it’s unlikely you’ll get another chance.

 

“I have been plagued by… a disease. A rather common one, I’d say.” The words you pick are careful, tentative. One wrong move and the tentative peace you hold could shatter. “I am coughing flowers - anemone - from my lungs. I believe the flowers may have been caused by love - unrequited or not - for you.”

 

Lena freezes. Your breath catches in your throat as you wait for her answer. Anticipation.

 

_The flowers you have budding in your lungs are anemone. They indicate fading hope, being forsaken and anticipation._

 

“For… me? But why? I don’t know you!” she exclaims finally, her voice almost hysterical by the time she finishes.

 

“I believe you knew Amélie Lacroix?” you respond, voice still as soft as it had been when you started your explanation.

 

“Amélie?” Lena breathes, that confusion even more obvious on her face now that it’s less clouded with other emotions.

 

 _“That’s not breaking the news! Tell her straight, amiga, not that there’s anything straight about this.”_ Sombra complains, breaking the fragile atmosphere of the situation. She’s right, though, of course she is. Lena must know.

 

“Yes. I am - was? - Amélie Lacroix. I was brainwashed by Talon and given a mission: kill my husband, Gérard. It is unfortunate that you found his body, chérie. I never intended to cause you pain.” She stares at you blankly, before her expression hardens.

 

“Prove it.” Prove what?

 

 _“What,”_ Sombra’s voice says, flatly, _“does she want you to prove that you’re Amélie or does she want you to prove that you’re coughing up flowers every night?”_

 

“Which part of this do you wish me to prove, chérie?” you ask, thankful for Sombra’s intrusion.

 

“That you’re really Amélie! I mean, why would I believe you instantly? You’re bent as a nine-bob note!” she responds, and oh, those are _tears_. You didn’t mean to upset her.

 

“Would my personal Talon file be adequate proof?” you ask, desperate for a way to prove that you are who you say you are.

 

_“On it.”_

 

“Yeah, I guess?” At those words, you decide that you have never been gladder that Sombra exists.

 

“They’ll be sent to you as soon as possible,” you respond, waiting for Sombra’s word.

 

 _“Sending now.”_ Lena jumps as her phone beeps, pulling it out and looking at the information, brows furrowed.

 

“Amélie?” she breathes again, and when she looks up her eyes are shining. “You’re really her?”

 

You nod, silent. Lena _glows_ at that nod, and you feel your lips twitch up into a slight smile. Then she freezes again and glares at you.

 

“But how do I know you’re not lying about anything else? You admitted to being brainwashed by Talon, how do I know you’re not still working for them!” she says, accusing.

 

“Do you want me to cough you up a flower, chérie?” you say, your voice dry. She freezes, looking sheepish as she realized what she’s asked. “I promise you, I would not lie to you.”

 

“Oh,” she says, voice small. “You really love me?”

 

“Yes, chérie,” you reply, “with all my heart.”

**Author's Note:**

> Don't worry! Lena does love Amélie back, it's just that _“Yes, chérie,” you reply, “with all my heart.”_ was such a good ending sentence that I couldn't not finish it there!
> 
> Come yell at me on tumblr [@felinedetached](https://felinedetached.tumblr.com/), and check out a joke I made whilst writing [here](https://felinedetached.tumblr.com/post/165004098543/sometimes-you-just-gotta-drag-a-friend-aka)!
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed it!
> 
> EDIT: @frostje on tumblr drew some amazing art for this [here](http://frostje.tumblr.com/post/165082632870/i-would-not-lie-to-you-ch%C3%A8rie-hanahaki-isnt-fun)!


End file.
